


To Be, or Not to Be.

by ladylaufeyson1



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Sifki - Freeform, sifxloki - Freeform, warfrost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylaufeyson1/pseuds/ladylaufeyson1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is about to witness his brother's proposal to his best friend, the warrior maiden Lady Sif. Will he be able to sit idly by or will he finally tell Sif how he feels after all these years?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Takes place pre-Thor 1 - dedicated to Lauren who loves this fic!)

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Loki had been dreading the occasion for a fortnight, and his demeanor clearly conveyed that to all who had the misfortune of coming across him within that time. When he finally arrived at the great hall (after taking the long, long way), he briefly stopped to look himself over in one of the full length mirrors lining the walls. He had never been one to care much about his looks; he was hygienic to a fault, but much more interested in books and magic than he was on his appearance. Tonight however, Loki felt differently.

The corridor outside the hall was empty excluding several servants, too pre-occupied with their trays of food and tripping over one other to notice the young prince watching them in the shadows. He was neither shocked nor insulted by this revelation, for he had lived very much in the shadows all eighteen years of his life. He was known around Asgard as the “odd prince” when frequently compared to his conventionally handsome, well-loved brother, Thor.  The shadows were no stranger to him.

He turned back towards the mirror, running his fingers carefully through his long raven locks and smoothing down the leather of his dark green tunic. His thick layers of hair, which fell an inch below his jawline (more or less), insisted on repeatedly falling across his eyes no matter how many times he tried to push the slicked back tresses behind his ears. As he looked over himself, he caught sight of the stark contrast between his light eyes and the heavy dark circles underneath them; a reflection on how little sleep he had gotten in the past few weeks.

Tonight was the night that Thor was to officially propose to the warrior maiden, Lady Sif. The kingdom had been buzzing about the occasion for weeks, and Loki had been avoiding the realm in its entirety since then. He wasn’t daft. He believed his brother must have loved her for years; what no one else knew was that Loki shared the same affection, and had since they were children. He knew she had been searching the kingdom for him for weeks looking to seek his advice on the matter, but he wanted no part in it. She had clearly made her choice.

“Well don’t you look charming,” a snakelike voice whispered.

Loki didn’t turn or speak, but continued to stare indifferently at the figure behind him that was now (too comfortably) sliding her arms underneath his, holding him around the waist. He shifted uneasily at her touch, shrugging her off coldly. She recoiled momentarily at his rejection but quickly regained her composure, bumping him aside to look herself over in the mirror. 

Lorelei was stunning; there was never any question of that. She had long, dazzling red hair, porcelain white skin, and big, glistening eyes as green as the aurora. Her fitted gold sequined dress barely covered her sizable chest and long legs, leaving very little to anyone’s imagination. She held the attention of many men at court, but unfortunately the only man she pined after clearly had his sights set elsewhere.

Despite the fact that Loki didn’t even remotely reciprocate Lorelei’s feelings, or care much for her at all, he was momentarily grateful for her presence. To say he was relieved that didn’t have to enter the hall alone would be a gross understatement; also, he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit some vengeful joy in knowing that his choice of date would cause a bit of an uproar. Lorelei had a reputation for being the “Harlot of Asgard” – and the rumors weren’t exactly false (even if Loki himself had never shared his bed with her).   _Anything to make the time a little less enjoyable for everyone_ , he thought bitterly.

As the two entered the bustling hall, Loki’s stomach dropped. His eyes immediately flickered to the far end of the hall where the head table was, but there was no sign of them yet. He sighed in relief, quickly regaining his composure in time to take in the stares and whispers all around them. As they approached the head table a sudden rush of satisfaction hit him when he glanced up to find the look of shock and revulsion on the face of his father.

“Good evening, father, mother,” he nodded smugly, passing behind the table to take his seat to the right of them.

“Good evening Loki, Lorelei,” Frigga smiled, squeezing Loki’s hand as he sat down beside her. She beamed up expectantly at her son until he bent down to kiss her cheek, which he did, though reluctantly. Frigga had the patience and good will of a saint, and Loki loved her dearly, but deep down he knew she wasn’t thrilled about his choice of date either.

Lorelei curtsied to Odin and Frigga before sitting down, pulling her skirt down her thighs as she did. It was obvious that even she, in all her excessive vanity, was a little uncomfortable at being so under-dressed in front of the king and queen

Odin, in his normal fashion, nodded curtly at the two of them, but said no more. Ultimately, it didn’t matter who Loki brought with him to the ball, for he would never have the approval of his father. He loved his brother tremendously, but so did everyone else, and much more so than they loved him; a fact that he was quickly growing tired of.

Thoroughly agitated by his thoughts (but nevertheless lost within them), Loki snapped his fingers in the air, waving a hand to track down the closest servant. Moments later, one appeared.

“My lord?”

“A glass of reisling for the lady,” Loki mumbled, thinking over his own choice carefully. He was not one to drink under normal circumstances, but tonight he felt there would be an exception. There needed to be one. There was no way he was going to make it through this particular evening sober. He didn’t hate himself  _that_ much.

“And, for you, my lord?” the servant asked nervously. Most of the help were apprehensive of Loki; ever since he was a boy, he loved playing tricks on them. Harmless tricks, but nevertheless irritating. Tonight however, mischief was far from his mind.

“Akvavit,” Loki replied, without continuing to give the question any further thought. Akvavit was a Norse grain alcohol, the strongest of its kind. Just a glass or two of it and even the heaviest set man would be close to inebriated in less an hour. 

“Would you like a short glass or tumbler, my Lord?” 

Suddenly and without warning, the doors to the hall opened and the crowd began to murmur loudly. Loki slowly looked up from the table, feeling the blood drain instantly from his face. Standing there on the opposite side of the room, arm in arm with his brother Thor, was Sif. She was dressed in a long, flowing lilac colored dress with a plunging neckline and short sleeves that fell gently off her shoulders. Her long dark hair was braided back loosely in a low up-do, her porcelain skin glimmering in the dimly lit hall. She looked painfully beautiful.

“My lord?” the servant asked again carefully, fearful of setting him off.

“Make it a bottle,” Loki swallowed, his temper rising along with the bile in his stomach. “And be quick with it.”

Lorelei sniggered, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her date. “Getting a bit smashed tonight, are we Loki?”

He didn’t respond and Lorelei frowned at his blatant disregard for her. She glanced up as the fanfare officially announced the presence of the guests of honor, and suddenly, Loki’s callous demeanor made perfect sense to her.

Frigga, trying hard not to notice, peered over at her son in amusement. He hardly ever drank, and if he did it was not hard liquor. She watched curiously as his eyes darted back and forth between the floor and what looked like the Lady Sif. He was rubbing his fingers across his mouth nervously, clearly deep in thought, while his knee bounced restlessly against the table. He looked as if he were about to be sick.

“Darling, are you alright?”

He nodded without speaking, in fear that if he did he might retch. He couldn’t help it. The more he fought it, the more his eyes wandered to her. She was magnetic. The way the crowd received her was easily comparable to the way the Asgardians adored Frigga. She already looked very much like a queen. For some reason though, she didn’t look entirely happy. Maybe it was all in his head, or maybe she was nervous; but that wasn’t like Sif.

The servant appeared moments later with the bottle for Loki, uneasily placing a tumbler glass beside it. He scurried off as quickly as possible as if being near the young prince was similar to being near a bomb that was about to explode.

As if his life suddenly depended on it, Loki grabbed the bottle vigorously and hastily poured the foul liquid into the glass until it overflowed, freely spilling some onto the table. He knocked back the entire drink quickly, wincing as he did so, the warmth instantaneously spreading throughout his body. Frigga and Lorelei eyed each other nervously.

“By the Norns,” Loki coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why the Hel does anyone drink this vulgar stuff?”

“Oh, I can think of at least  _one_  reason why,” Lorelei boldly mumbled underneath her breath, nodding in the direction of Sif.

“Hold your tongue,” Loki spat, whirling around to face her. “I am in no mood.”

Before Lorelei could retort, Thor appeared alarmingly quickly behind Loki, slapping him heartily on the back, nearly knocking him off of his seat.

“Brother! What an evening this is!” Thor beamed so enthusiastically at Loki, he couldn't help but smile back (even if was forced).

Loki noticed a trace of purple fabric flowing behind his brother and moments later, Sif stepped out, standing timidly before him.  Her radiance was blinding. At that moment, Loki was certain there was nothing more beautiful in all the nine realms, though he had been certain of that fact many times before. She glanced up from the ground and for the first time in weeks, their eyes met.

He clumsily leapt to his feet, suddenly feeling a bit more lightheaded, and bowed nervously. A few weeks ago, Sif would have laughed at his etiquette, but now, to Loki, it felt as if they were strangers; meeting one another for the very first time.

“Lady Sif,” he nodded, abruptly feeling extremely embarrassed on a number of levels. He felt stupid for bringing Lorelei, for drinking, and most of all, for ignoring her the past few weeks. Clearly it had changed things between them; the last possible thing Loki wanted, though inevitable all the same. 

 “Good evening, Loki,” Sif spoke softly, her eyes kind. Her expression pained once she saw who he had brought with him, but she quickly covered her disapproval by smiling as warmly as she could. “Good evening, Lorelei.”

“Lady Sif,” she raised her glass, winking at Thor as she did so (ever the lady). “A toast, to the two of you.”

“Yes, a toast,” Loki burst out (rather loudly), whirling around to quickly pour himself another glass while Sif looked on, stunned. Thor merely stood there laughing, as if there was suddenly nothing more amusing in the cosmos than his own brother drinking a glass full of grain alcohol.

“My girl,” Frigga smiled widely, proudly standing from her seat to greet Thor and Sif with hugs and kisses and two glasses of champagne for their empty hands. “You look lovely. And my son, my handsome son...”

“A toast,” Odin came up from behind, placing an arm around Frigga and holding up a glass of mead with his free hand. “To the two finest warriors in all of Asgard. A proper match.”

They all raised their glasses, sipping their wine and mead and champagne merrily, laughing as they did so.

No one seemed to notice that Sif instantly chugged all of her champagne, without giving it a second thought. No one except for Loki. 

The two locked eyes again, and for a moment, despite the bustle of the great hall, despite the aching in his chest, it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. He wanted nothing more than to run far away from this night and to take her with him, but he knew it was not a possibility. Instead, he would take comfort in the fact that in a short while, thanks to his drink, he would be forgetting all about the warrior maiden Sif. He would forget the way her eyes looked when she laughed at something stupid he said. He would forget the way she'd flip her long, silken hair behind her back, exposing her bare collarbone to him, a place he longed to feel beneath his lips. He would forget the way she smelled - of lavender and of springtime - and he would certainly forget her smile - a smile that would melt even the iciest of hearts.

"To you,” he whispered sadly under his breath, mouthing the words at her while everyone else faded into the background. He raised his glass and, in one swift move, the second drink was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In which Loki handles his drunkenness surprisingly well, but is still a moron.)

 

After an hour had passed and all of the guests had finished dinner, the servants condensed the dining tables to either side of the hall to make room for a dance floor. Despite the fact that he had eaten nearly his weight in roasted vegetables and wild boar (surpassed only by Volstagg, who currently was passed out with his face in hazelnut pudding), Loki's head was swimming. He had consumed far too much alcohol in too short of a time, and his liquid courage was growing with each passing minute.

Odin stood from his seat (silencing the crowd with his ever solemn demeanor), and led an enthusiastic Frigga down the steps from the head table to the ballroom floor. As soon as their feet touched the ground, a quartet in the far corner began to play a soft, smooth melody reminiscent of a slow waltz. Loki groaned at the sight of his parents and put his head heavily against his right hand, his elbow propped up on the table. Half of his face distorted comically against his palm. He appeared more bored than inebriated.

"Let's dance," Lorelei whispered, tugging on his free arm.

He jumped slightly at her touch, forgetting momentarily that she was even there. His brows furrowed as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, pulling his arm free of her grip. "No," he grumbled.

"Why did you even bring me here?" she retorted angrily, taking another swig of her wine. "You've been more callous tonight than usual."

"You know damn well why," he snapped coldly, watching miserably as Sif and Thor followed Odin and Frigga out onto the floor, joining the other guests that began to dance around them. As Thor pulled her in close and slid his hand down her waist, Loki shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Clearly the alcohol he consumed wasn't making him entirely numb to the grueling situation at hand.

He was unaware of how he had been able to stand it for this long, but before another precarious word could leave Lorelei's lips, Loki stood, rather unsteadily, and surprisingly held out his hand for her to take.

Inquisitively cocking an eyebrow up at him, Lorelei grabbed his hand and eagerly pulled herself up from her seat. She didn't exactly know what prompted his sudden change of heart, but she suspected it was a combination of his brother's arms around the girl he cared for and a half empty bottle of Akvavit.

"Why  _should_  I have a completely miserable evening?" he muttered, mostly to himself, nearly stumbling into a passing servant carrying a tray full of desserts. He began to realize that the only way he was going to get through this evening was by making the best of the situation in front of him; something that sadly escaped him in sobriety.

"Don't trip me," she spat crossly as the two walked down the steps arm in arm. "If you think you're going to make a fool out of both of us, there's still time to turn around."

Loki led her onto the floor, trying his best to avoid looking in the direction of Sif, and firmly pulled her against him. "If there's one thing I'm still better at than Thor…," he stated matter-of-factly. "It's dancing."

"Oh?" Lorelei said seductively, looking over his shoulder at Sif, who was now staring at the two of them. She leaned sloppily into him so that his lips purposely brushed against her ear, quickly making Sif turn away. "Is that all you're better at,  _Silvertongue_?"

Despite the fact that they were blatantly intoxicated, the two somehow moved effortlessly across the room, catching the eye of many guests that were seemingly shocked at what astounding dancers they were. Several whoops came from the same table harboring an unconscious Volstagg and Lorelei laughed, looking up to see Fandral (with his arms around several bar maidens) hollering in their direction. Even the king and queen had stopped to watch, Frigga boasting to her husband how Loki had acquired that particular skill from her.

As soon as the song had ended, applause broke out, but Loki paid no mind. He broke instantaneously away from Lorelei, pushing his raven locks back that were falling across his burning blue eyes and started immediately in the direction of Sif. Without hope or agenda, and looking very much like a wild animal about to attack his prey, Loki approached her, coldly offering his hand as the quartet began to play a even slower melody.

"Will you dance with me?"

Sif took a step back as he neared her, slightly alarmed by his sudden presence, abrasive request and overall uneasy demeanor. She looked up at him angrily, his hard, beautiful eyes boring into hers, stern yet pleading at the same time. Being upset with him for refusing to see her the last two weeks was fruitless. She had never seen him so drunk.

His breathing turned slightly erratic as she grasped his hand, surprising him to say the least. Her warmth instantly felt soothing on his skin, like sinking into a hot bath after being out all day in the snow. He had been so inexplicably cold lately. No matter how he tried, he couldn't properly get warm, and he could tell by the quizzical expression she made when she touched him that she noticed the vast temperature difference as well.

"You're so cold…," she noted worryingly, instinctively moving to press her fingertips to his forehead. He caught her swiftly yet gently by the wrist and pulled her hand away from his face, sliding his fingertips through hers.

"So I've been told," he replied unfeelingly as his free hand slid gingerly down the side of her waist, holding her still at arm's length from him. His heart quickened at the feel of her body beneath the light fabric, and Sif felt her face go red upon his touch. They began to move.

"I've been looking for you," she muttered, hoping to break the awkward sullenness between them.

"I've been busy."

"I can see that," she nodded in the direction of Lorelei, who was now flirtatiously conversing with Thor, looking as though she had completely forgotten about the God of Mischief. "How long?"

"How long what?" Loki inquired rather idiotically, too focused on the way her eyes glistened in the dim light of the hall to care about anything else at the moment.

"How long have you two been-"

Loki pursed his lips together. "We are not."

Sif looked down and away from him, hoping that in doing so the relief on her face wouldn't be so obvious. Loki wasn't the only one whose senses were off as a result of the evening's libations, though Sif couldn't decide what was causing her to suddenly feel more lightheaded; the alcohol or the fact that she was in a heated dance with the one man who made her feel so alive. The tension between them was heavy, though their true feelings remained masked.

The two moved perfectly in sync as Loki gazed down at her, trying hard to come to terms with all of the emotions he was experiencing. As much as he was elated to be touching her, he was also furious. He couldn't decide what he wanted more – to retaliate for all of the hurt she had inadvertently caused him or to drag her up to his chambers to make ravenous love to her (though if he was being honest with himself, it would easily be the latter).

" _Hold me_ ," she whispered, so silently to him that if Loki hadn't been so focused on her every breath the past couple of minutes he might have easily missed it. He didn't even know if he had heard right until she looked up at him pleadingly, setting his heart ablaze. No. He was tired of being her security blanket whenever she was faced with a situation that made her uncomfortable. It wouldn't work anymore, and he wouldn't put himself through it.

"Now, now, Lady Sif, what would your soon-to-be husband think about that?" Loki swallowed, regaining whatever he had left of his cool composure.

"Damn you, Loki," she spat, shaking her head incredulously as she looked up at him angrily. There was no more hiding the anger burning within her. "You are a  _fool_."

"Am I?"

Her words were enough to spark a small rage within him, and without much of a warning, Loki pulled her in closer to him, holding her body firmly against his. Sif gasped as he did so, her heart pounding hard within her chest. She was hoping he couldn't see what he was doing to her, though she was fairly certain by now that the rest of Asgard could.

Much to her relief, there weren't many people paying attention to the two of them. The hall was now bustling with many guests dancing and yelling in drunken merriment. They had danced themselves into a dark, shadowy corner of the hall towards the large windows that looked out onto the water in the direction of Heimdall's observatory. The only eyes watching them belonged to Frigga, who was sipping champagne carefully with the slightest hint of a smile on her face.

"You look beautiful," he whispered darkly, almost bitterly against her ear, suddenly losing all sense of propriety to his resentment. "Much like a princess."

The sound of his sultry voice sent shivers down her spine. Loki could feel the goosebumps forming on her skin and suddenly worried that his body temperature was making her too cold (what an idiot). She closed her eyes, too entranced by the feel of his breath against her skin, to care about anything else in the moment.

As she slowly leaned against his chest, he felt his heart break in two. It suddenly didn't matter that she was going to marry his brother. It didn't matter that she didn't love him in return. It didn't matter that he would spend the rest of his days barred from being with the one person he would die a thousand deaths for. In that moment, he vowed to himself that he would always love her, always protect her, always make sure that she was happy, no matter the cost. No matter if he had to spend the rest of his days a miserable bastard. He would never love anyone the way he loved her.

There was no drink that could make him brave enough for this moment he suddenly found himself in, and tears began to threaten. She looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of what she so desperately longed to hear from him; that he loved her, needed her, couldn't live without her. But the words never came.

She saw the tears forming, and as the music came to an end, Loki forced himself to break away from her.

"Lady Sif, I-," he blinked, and she watched as a single tear fell freely from his face onto the floor. He straightened, his nostrils slightly flaring at a poor attempt to keep his composure. "I wish you all the happiness you so deserve."

Sif stood briefly in a state of shock. He couldn't tell because of the lighting, but it almost looked as though she too had started to cry. Before another word could pass between them, she turned and walked away. As he watched her go, he felt the weight of his loss immeasurably. He already so missed her body against his, her perfect smile, the way her hair smelled...

Minutes later appeared Lorelei, slinking her arms around his shoulders and offering him a glass of something. To both of their surprise, he refused, but didn't shake her off entirely. Instead he stood rooted to the spot, staring still in the direction of Sif, though for some reason she had long since left the hall entirely (unbeknownst to everyone else but him). For a moment, he thought to go after her, but soon decided against it.

"I can make you forget about her," Lorelei whispered into his ear, her lips hovering just above his skin.

 

"I don't want to forget about her."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter has been a very long time coming. Hard to end one of my favorites. Hope you enjoy! Xx

Loki sat miserably at the head table, staring at the rest of his drink that he was hard-pressed to finish. Nearly half an hour had passed and Sif still hadn’t returned to the hall. As much as he tried not to notice, it was beginning to weigh heavily on him. It wouldn’t be long now before Thor proposed in front of the kingdom. Surely Sif would want to be present for her own engagement, he thought bitterly to himself.

After several minutes of listing off a million reasons not to (while repeatedly standing up and sitting back down), he decided to go after her. She hadn’t looked well at the end of their dance and Thor was too preoccupied with his mead and Lorelei’s suggestive attire to take any real notice of Sif’s absence. It made his blood boil. The whole evening was for her and yet, no one seemed at all troubled by the lack of her presence. No one except for him. 

Just before he could take his leave, Frigga slipped silently in the seat next to him. Slightly startled, he shifted uncomfortably, hoping that whatever she wanted wouldn't take long.

“Are you enjoying your evening, Loki?” she asked lightly as her eyes floated over the sea of guests. It was cruel to pain him with the question, she thought to herself immediately, as it was quite clear that he was not.

“I am,” he swallowed, raising his eyebrows a little too coolly at her.

“You've never been one to fool me,” she responded, chuckling to herself as she smiled over at him.

He sighed. Trying to hide his true temperament from her was always futile, as she was the only one (aside from Sif) who could always see through his lies. With that sudden realization, he sank down in his chair, concluding that women would certainly be the death of him.

She laughed harder and reached over to pat him gently on his back, only fueling his annoyance. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, bouncing his knee impatiently. “Mother, if there is something that you want, pray tell. I-”

“Lady Sif looks lovely tonight.”

He glanced up quickly to see if Sif had returned to the hall, but she was still nowhere to be found. His stomach dropped. He knew his mother could properly sense his mood, but he had no idea until now that she was fully aware of the reason for it. She wasn't just making any old statement. She knew.

In an attempt to avoid the discussion, he abruptly leapt from his chair and started off in the opposite direction.

“Loki -” Frigga called after him, hastily standing to follow him, her voice hushed yet firm. He hesitated as he descended down the steps, contemplating ignoring her altogether, but thought better against it.

He knew that it was wrong; that Sif and Thor were a proper match. He would give her everything that she deserved, everything that Loki would never be capable of giving her. He knew that hoping for her to see him as something more had always been a fool’s errand, but he didn’t give a damn. He never had. 

His eyes flooded as the hurt boiled over. He suddenly realized that was no longer capable of pretending. As he turned to look back at his mother, preparing himself for the fight of his life, he was shocked to find her expression warm, her eyes soft.

“My darling,” Frigga whispered, smiling up at her son as she fought back her own tears. She squeezed his arm gently. “You must tell her.”

* * *

Sif walked hurriedly along the main path through the gardens that bordered the hall. She held her dress up as she ran, cursing loudly as it caught on encroaching branches and vines. She stopped only once she had reached an old marble bench sitting beside a large willow tree, far removed from the rest of the kingdom. She had loved the spot ever since she was a girl, often using it as respite from the chaotic world she often found herself a part of, today being no exception.

She broke down, collapsing onto the seat as she threw her heels angrily into the brush nearby. She looked down at her hands through watery eyes, hands that had just been wrapped around his neck, and clenched them into fists. She breathed in and out heavily as she cried, ripping the pins anxiously from her hair, hoping that by freeing her locks she would also somehow free herself from the predicament she was in. 

Her actions had been truly pathetic. She thought over the events of the past weeks, wondering why she hadn’t outright refused Thor when it was so very clear that her heart belonged elsewhere. Did she truly believe that she could go through with marrying someone she didn't love just to spite the one she did? She was just as capable of confessing her feelings, and yet, like a coward, she hid behind them for years, just like he had. Maybe he had moved on. Maybe he never cared at all. 

Loki stepped out into the night, taking deep breaths in through his nose as he skulked along in the direction of where he knew she would undoubtedly be. He kicked pebbles along the dirt walk that ran alongside the palace, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his tunic, his head down. He silently cursed himself, wishing he had put away one last drink before having to face her again, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to muster up the courage to tell her what he so badly needed to. He was certain if he did things would never be the same between them, but damnit, she was about to marry his brother. Things would never be the same regardless. And besides, even if she didn’t care for him, even if she found the idea of them together repulsive, he didn’t think it would be possible to live another day, another hour, without her knowing.

But how would he even broach the subject? He knew how to flirt with just about every other girl besides her. Any sort of longingly pathetic glance he shot in her direction was usually covered up fairly quickly by a wry smile and a jesting punch to her arm. He was certain he had done a proper job of hiding his feelings over the years (oh, how very wrong he was); how in Hel would she react? A vision of her leaning over him with her blade pressed against his throat immediately came to mind. He smiled vaguely to himself.

He slowed as he drew nearer to the spot and removed his helmet. brushing the fallen dark locks swiftly away from his eyes once more before continuing on. As he turned to see her sitting beneath the willow, his breath caught in his throat. He looked forward to the day when he would look at her and not feel the pounding of his heart, the sickness in his stomach, the longing in his soul; today was not that day.

He stood watching her, shifting back and forth where he stood, trying to will himself to move in her general direction. He opened his mouth to say her name several times, but nothing came out, and after several minutes he considered leaving so as not to startle her.

“What need do you have of me, Loki?” she said suddenly, quietly, without turning to look back at him. She always knew when he was there. Always.

Loki stood paralyzed, as he had so many times before, simply by her presence. _So much need_ , he thought. “I- simply came to see if you were alright.”

"I'm fine," she whispered as she looked up at the night sky, batting away her tears, hoping he wouldn't take notice.

He looked over at her sheepishly as he approached the bench, noticing immediately in the dim star light that she had been crying. His fists automatically clenched at his sides at her blatant distress. He wasn't sure what was wrong, but was never used to seeing her in such a state. He stood awkwardly for a moment before taking a seat, sighing as he followed her gaze up to the stars.

“Sometimes I envy them,” he said plainly after a moment, saying anything to break the heavy silence between them. Sif noticed out of the corner of her eye that he was glancing up at the sky along with her.

“The stars? What for?”

“Because they are steadfast. Bright. Resilient,” he said, slowly placing his helmet down beside him. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together, staring at the ground in thought. "Predestined for greatness."

She peered over at him curiously, wondering why the Hel he was rambling about the stars, but she knew by the melancholic expression he wore that he was clearly referring to something else. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, almost angrily, at his cryptic statement. Was he referring to her? “Eventually they will burn out.”

“Ah, but they are beautiful,” he whispered sadly, hoping she would not turn just then to see the pained expression he wore as he glanced longingly at her.

“Beauty does not ensure happiness. And anyway, is that what you are, Loki? Are you happy?” she asked before she could stop herself, surprised by her own candor. She was tired of dancing around this, tired of continuing to hide the feelings that were tearing at her insides.

“Tonight is not about my happiness,” he responded coldly, mechanically, his voice quiet.

"Then that," she snapped, throwing her hands up in the air as she stood to leave. "Would be a first."

Loki's brows furrowed as he tried to process her rapid shift in demeanor. Sif wasn't skilled in seidr, but he was certain she possessed her own form of sorcery for she could turn his mood on a dime. His expression shifted from bewildered to livid in a matter of seconds as he watched her storm off. 

“ _I’m_ sorry,” he yelled as he ran, halting her as he knelt down, his right hand placed mockingly over his heart. “Have I done something to offend you, _princess_?”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” she glared down at him, shaking her head, her lips tight. It was taking all her strength and resolve not to knock him from his position beneath her.

He looked up at her, his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily, the fury in his eyes matching hers with ease.

"Is it not your name? Soon you will be queen of this realm and I your humble servant."

"STOP IT!" she shouted, pulling him to his feet by his collar, shoving him violently away from her. "Don't you understand?"

"I understand that there is a FEAST happening in YOUR NAME and you're sitting out here sulking like a CHILD!" he barked, running right back to loom over her. If they were to spar at this very moment, he was certain he would best her. "What could you _possibly_ have to be upset about? You will have EVERYTHING!"

"Not everything," she hissed, shaking her head, speaking the words bitterly through clenched teeth. She held hard onto her anger for she was certain if she let it go, even for a moment, the game would be up and she would throw herself into his arms. She would not lose. Even now, as she was secretly blaming him, berating him for his denial, she was still very much stewing in her own. 

"Well," he said quietly, his voice shaking with fury. "I'm certain whatever that may be can be custom made for you."

That was it.

The second he rolled his eyes and turned to walk away she reached for the dagger underneath her dress and threw him to the ground, straddling him with the knife pressed firmly against his throat.

"Say it," she demanded, her voice hoarse with desperation. "Say it now, for I am certain I will go MAD if I don't hear it from you THIS INSTANT!"

"Say WHAT?" Loki mouthed exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in surrender as she pushed further against his windpipe. 

"Tell me why you were nowhere to be found these past weeks or I will cut you from ear to ear!"

He looked up at her, trying hard to keep his eyes from her focusing on her lips that were just inches away from his. "I told you," he rasped calmly, thoroughly confused by her actions, unaware of the kind of answer she was looking for. She certainly wasn't getting the truth. "I was preoccupied."

"With who? With Lorelei?"

"GODS no, Lorel-," he rolled his eyes incredulously, but quickly stopped. For in that fleeting moment, he saw flash in her eyes exactly what he had felt the past few weeks; insane jealousy, sadness, longing. He knew that look. He invented that look.

Still, he burst out laughing at the foolish thought. How could she could ever harbor any sort of romantic feelings for him? It was _impossible_. But the untimely laugh only made things worse. He watched, as if in slow motion, as a single tear fell down her cheek, landing onto his.

 _Oh._ How very daft he had been.

" _Sif_ ," he whispered, his face softening as he suddenly stared up at her in wonder. He reached up to touch the tear on his cheek, swallowing hard as he felt his own begin to form. He moved his hand to touch her face, but she recoiled and stood, throwing her dagger to the ground. 

"Have I been a fool?" she mused, laughing as softly as she cried. "Have I imagined, all along, that which was not there?"

"No," he responded quickly as he stood clumsily, walking cautiously over to her. He he had a thousand things that he wanted to say, but nothing proper came out. "You were not the fool." 

They stood quietly for several minutes, staring out at Heimdall's observatory. Sif crossed her arms protectively over her chest, hoping that if she closed her eyes long and hard enough she would disappear. Loki shifted, wanting to hold her, to at least reach for her hand, but he stopped himself, knowing that there was very little he could do to rectify the situation. He felt sick. The damage had certainly been done, to both of them, and it was possible that this was all happening too late.

“I remember the first time I ever saw you," he sighed to himself, smiling at the memory. "I was playing in the meadow, the one not far from here. You came running out of the woods, brandishing this large stick like a sword. Your hair was tied back in a single braid, the way your mother used to do it, and you had this red frock on that was simply _covered_ in dirt. When you smiled at me, I was positive you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. You then, naturally, proceeded to throw mud at my face.”

Once she caught her breath at his sentiment, she managed a small grin, recalling the day just as clearly in her mind. She remembered how handsome he was, though she wouldn't have been caught dead telling anyone she thought so. She had loved him from the first moment she had laid eyes on him; from the first smile he gave her to the first grumpy look after being pelted with dirt. There was never anyone else for her.

“When I was a boy, I often wondered,” he continued after a moment, closing his eyes in a pathetic attempt to quickly sort through his racing emotions. “I wondered what it would be like to be king. I used to imagine, quite often, what it would be like to rule... with you... by my side," he rambled, wringing his hands nervously. "I- I still do.”

Sif wiped the tears from her face and moved her hand to her chest, feeling her heart race at his admission. She was the one now paralyzed. So many years had passed since they were children, so much of their lives had changed in the interim, but he was still her best friend and the person she loved most. He was trying to reach out to her, to meet her halfway. Unfortunately, as she had come to realize, she was terrible with words and proceeded to say the first idiotic thing that came to mind. "So, you fancy yourself a throne?"

"No, Sif," he replied immediately, seriously, finally gathering up the courage to turn and face her. She wouldn't run from this moment. He wouldn't let her. His finger moved carefully to her chin and he gently forced her to look up at him. "I only fancy you. I only love... you."

As their eyes locked, he brushed a stray hair behind her ear and leaned down just before reaching her lips. Her eyes flitted from his mouth back to his watery gaze, knowing from the look he gave her now that the rest of the way would be entirely up to her, if she wanted it; if she wanted him. 

She searched his eyes, his face, trying hard to process the words that had just escaped him. She reached up to brush the fallen locks away from his eyes, holding his cheek in her hand. He sighed heavily, nervously, closing his eyes as he leaned further into her touch. Her somber expression completely melted away and she smiled just before leaning in and placing her lips delicately against his. 

Loki was certain his body had left the ground as her mouth and body pressed against his own. He wrapped his arms around her, fully enveloping her body beneath his as she leaned further into his chest. He was kissing her. He was touching her. It wasn't a dream; it was of her own accord. The emptiness, the longing, the lost years, the anger; none of it mattered. Nothing remained in that moment except for his unwavering, undying love for her.  

She sighed into their kiss as his hands wandered delicately along her jawline, snaking their way softly into her hair. She had pleasured herself many nights to the thought of him handling her roughly, swiftly, with little finesse, but the man that touched her now was incredibly tender and patient, which only left her more entranced by him. His kiss was gentle, careful at first, but their urgency for one another quickly grew. As soon as Loki felt her grip on him tighten he lifted her effortlessly up in his arms, tugging down on her locks to fully claim her mouth. Sif wrapped her legs around his torso, holding nothing back as she pulled him closer, kissing him as though she needed his lips to breathe, to exist. She did. 

"I love you," she finally whispered in between their lips, placing a shaky hand on his cheek while moving to rest her forehead against his. "And I am yours alone."

Loki smiled, the first real smile Sif had seen from him in a very long time. He leaned in and pressed his lips against each of her cheeks before returning to her lips, fervently exploring her mouth once more before hesitantly setting her back down on the ground. He wanted so much more of her, but decided (rather painfully) that he shouldn't press his luck so soon. As he broke away from their kiss his eyes traveled down to where she stood, holding her dress up in her hands just above her ankles. He immediately began to laugh. 

"What?" she asked, her expression amused. 

"Where are your shoes?"  

* * *

 As they found their way back up the path, Loki stayed several paces behind her, watching her carefully. Reality began to sink in as they walked back toward their destination. "What of Thor?" he asked quietly, not really wanting an answer to the question.

"An extreme to get you to confess, I suppose," she said solemnly, nearly forgetting about that predicament. She had been on cloud nine with Loki for so long that she had almost forgotten the grueling situation at hand. "He is like a brother to me. I don't know how I'll face him."

"Most likely covered in mud."

"Wha-?"

Before she had time to react, Loki ran up behind her, slapping the side of her face with a giant slab of cold, wet dirt. 

"You _idiot!_ " she gasped in shock, laughing as she wiped the muck from her cheek.

"Revenge is sweet, darling," he said playfully, his eyes alight with mischief as he ran ahead of her.

"You better run," she threatened as she crouched down, grabbing her own handful of mud. "I am still faster than y-"

  _Thump._ He hit her again, nearly covering the front of her dress this time, practically knocking her off her feet. 

"OH!" she shouted, her annoyance surging as she stood and chased after him with full force. "You are NO gentleman."

"Would you have me any other way?" he shouted as he looked back at her, entirely unaware of the stump he was about to trip over. He hit the ground, howling with laughter, and Sif couldn't help but do the same. 

"No," she chuckled, crouching over him with the pie bouncing in her hand. She leaned in to kiss him, slapping it on the side of his face as she grinned against his mouth. "I wouldn't."

* * *

Frigga stood by the large windows in the hall, looking down at Sif and her son together in the garden. Thor silently joined her side and the two of them beamed down at the ridiculous couple, discreetly low-fiving one another.

"To think, it took something _this_ drastic to get those two together," Thor boomed with laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Hush now," she said with a wry smile, looking briefly around the room behind them. "We must let them come out on their own terms."

"Oh, mother. Do you truly think that we've been the only ones aware of their love? I would wager Loki was the only one in the kingdom that believed Sif would accept my proposal."

"Honestly," she said, somewhat judgmentally, watching the two throw dirt at one another. "I don't think those two have changed a bit since they were small."

"Aye," he smiled, thoroughly amused at the scene unfolding beneath them. "Not at all."

"You must promise to always keep our ruse a secret. They would never forgive us if they knew." 

Thor laughed again and wrapped his arm around her, clinking his glass against hers in celebration of their victory. "I daresay they would."

 

*  


End file.
